I find myself rocking my hips against the bed. Over and over again.
Up. Down. Up. Down. Forward. Backward.
Desperate for friction. For release.
I grunt into the pillow next to my head and grip the edge of the bed with my left hand. I go at it for ten, fifteen minutes. Breathing heavy and making the air in the room moist. The bed creaks ever so slightly under my shifting weight as I grind my cock against the bed.
I try to think of something else, someone else; but as I come into my boxer shorts in several hot spurts, it’s Alessio that is in my mind’s eye.
Clear crystal vases are set onto every round table in the room. The expensive nature of them escapes me. I have no interest in what type of flowers Rosalie has chosen for the event. Nor do I particularly care about the rest of the decorations. The blue and purple draping. The twinkling lights.
I do, however, pay attention to each and every possible entrance and exit in the building. Including the ones that might otherwise be forgotten.
The large window in the hallway leading from the dining hall to the bathroom. It has no way of opening or closing but could easily be smashed.
The sky light above the bride and groom’s table.
The double back doors that are currently unguarded.
“Will there be guards at all the doors on the night of?” I ask Eivor.
He’s distracted talking to the caterer about the alcohol situation, wanting to make sure Nikolas and Beau aren’t able to sneak any alcohol. It’s rather amusing that is something he cares about in a situation like this.
He looks over to me with a look of uncertainty. “What? Oh…yes. Of course.”
“Why isn’t there tonight?” I ask, eying the doors suspiciously.
“It’s only the rehearsal. Not many will show,” he insists.
My fingers twitch. “After the event with the bomb, I think it would be good to be on high alert,” I say.
He sighs. “Yes, yes. I agree. That’s why there’s a few more guards here tonight. I don’t want the place looking as though it’s locked down. I’m sure with your help, things will be just fine. Don’t you?” He smiles at me. I see a hard look in his eye.
“If you’re certain, Mr. Fiorelli,” I tell him, switching up my tone. It’s clear that he’s not interested in hearing any criticism.
“That I am,” he says. “Nothing else has happened since that little…warning. You’ve kept an eye on my dear niece, and Carmine has found nothing to be worried about so far with the Carvels. You will be notified if there’s anything to worry about.”
I narrow my eyes. I feel uneasy. “Yes, Mr. Fiorelli.”
Despite his words, I will not be letting my guard down. Not even a little bit.
I turn to find Rosalie. She’s walking around and instructing people on where the decorations are meant to go. She’s wearing some kind of corseted dress that seems to be making it difficult for her to breath as her face is flushed and she keeps sucking in a deep breath with her hand on her stomach.
I look at my watch.
Seven-oh-two.
I was told the entire rehearsal dinner would only last a couple hours, but judging by the fact that that it’s already been an hour, I’d say I’m going to be here a while.
I move to a corner of the room where I can see all of the exits and entrances, windows and otherwise, better. I watch the guests trickle in. Ony a dozen of them. Not even half of who will be at the actual reception.
I know each of them by name because I’ve looked them up. To ensure that I’m familiar with each name and face. No one who isn’t supposed to be here, will be here.
I see Rosalie greet the new guests with handshakes and kisses on the cheek. She walks like she’s floating on a cloud. Being the perfect hostess. Leading guests to their tables. Makingsure they have their menus of what’s to be served tonight. She smiles, laughs, and makes small talk…but her smile falters at the corners. Her eyes are tired. The way she moves is ever so slightly stiff.
She grows even more stiff and her smile grows larger, and faker, when Eivor and Patricia make their rounds to talk to her.
Fear and anxiety. Just like in the bathroom at the engagement gala.
